An infinity shaped beam out of the
headlights lit the way during the last
few turns back into the apartment
complex parking lot. You couldn’t see too
far due to the fogging plastic
around the waning filaments, but far enough
to make the maneuvers with confidence.
At work you were told by a coworker about
a scar on his hand, and how he got it trying
to keep his ex-girlfriend from stabbing
herself. She was on drugs at the time and
so was he, and you couldn’t help wondering
what happened after he got the knife away
from her.
He didn’t explain that far so the
story just ended with the two of them
covered in each other’s blood unable to
speak, and you incapable of asking for
a better ending.
You pull into your parking space that lines
up at the intersection of two fences,
one laid out horizontally the other vertically.
Sitting right where they met above you
was a opossum on its hind legs mouth open
full of crooked teeth.
You get out and remember releasing them
from traps when you were a kid and keep
your distance. You ask it why it’s waiting
there and if it was hoping to run into you,
but of course it just says nothing, and
watches you walk up the stairs heading
for home and away from all the dark that it
belongs to.
Teleporting Typewriter 